


Love Machine

by bittenfeld



Category: Knight Rider (1982)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Het
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-21 13:30:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7388929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittenfeld/pseuds/bittenfeld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>just an unfinished beginning of a fluffy bit, a little flirting between Michael and Bonnie – and is it time for KITT to learn something about the birds and the bees…?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Machine

Heat waves shimmered from the sand dunes in the west to the milky-blue late-afternoon sky.  Hot dust hung caught in suspension between earth and sky.  It had been one hell of a hot day.

Michael allowed the squirting hose to spray him down as he pulled it to the other side of the car.  He sprayed that side of the car too, washing off the outer layer of grime and dust, then dropped the hose in the mud – the only mud for fifty miles around – and slopped back to the faucet to shut it off.  Even in the shade of the carport the heat stifled.  Water drenched his hair, ran down his upper body, mingling with rivulets of sweat, soaked his denim shorts, ran down his legs to the floppies on his feet which squished as he walked.

“Michael,” his partner implored, “please hurry up before it dries and spots my finish.”

“Simmer down,” Michel grunted, then grinned at his unintentional pun.  “I’m mixing the soap right now.  And when I’m finished with you, there won't be on water spot left on your beautiful body.”

“Do you really think I’m beautiful?”

“Of course I do, KITT.”  And setting the bucket of soapy water by the Trans-Am’s left front tire, Michael squeezed out his sponge and began wiping the solution over the car’s roof.  Soap-film shimmered rainbows on the lexan sun-roof of the T-top.  “I think you’re the most gorgeous thing under the sun… except for Bonnie, of course.  Mmm!”  A shudder of delight zagged through his body, and he grinned.

“Your vitals just fluctuated,” the machine informed him succinctly.  “I have noticed that anomaly before, whenever Bonnie is near or whenever we discuss her.”

“Yes… well…”  Michael bent over the soap bucket, feeling warmth swell in his face.

As if on cue, the 1965 Toyota pick-up rumbled up the access road with Bonnie home from the grocery store.

“Hi guys!” the brunette greeted as she parked the vintage vehicle outside KITT’s bath stall.  “C’mon, help me get the groceries in before the frozen goods defrost in this heat!”  Climbing out of the cab, she grabbed a couple of sacks from the front seat.

The sloggy mess in the carport gave her pause.  “Uh, which one of you is getting the bath?”

“Both of us, the glassy black vehicle responded.  “It feels very good, Bonnie.  Did you know, the temperature in here is exactly ten-point-eight degrees cooler than where you’re standing?”

“No kidding.”

“No kidding.”  Michael backed up KITT's assertion.  A sweet malevolent smile graced his lips.  “Why don’t you take your clothes off and join us?”

A wry glance to the side, and Bonnie walked off in the direction of the house with her armload of groceries, shaking her head in futility.  “Of all the people in the world to be stuck in the desert with, and I’ve got to pick a couple of dirty old men.”

“You didn’t talk that way last night!” Michael called after her.

The computer’s ever-so-calm synthesized voice reiterated, “Your vital signs are rising again, Michael.”

“Will you please ignore my vital signs?” Michael insisted, swabbing down the vehicle’s shiny hood.  “Y’know, you don’t have to monitor me twenty-four hours a day.”

“But it’s part of my core programming,” the Trans-Am protested.

“Well, override it.  I don’t wanna be spied on when I’m in the john.”

“He’s right, Michael,” Bonnie commented on her return trip for the next load of groceries.  “It can’t be over-ridden. It’s a safety device, so that should you ever be in danger out of KITT's reach, he can still protect you by notifying the Foundation via telemetry.”

“Well, _find_ a way to override it.  Some thing are _private_ … if you divine my meaning…”

“I can’t.  It’s locked.”

KITT interrupted.  “For instance, I was monitoring you last night when suddenly your pulse and respirations increased rapidly.”

“What are you talking about?” Michael queried with sudden suspicion.  “What time last night?”

“From 10:23 PM to 10:46 PM, when Bonnie was with you in your room.”

Sudden enlightenment.

“… Your vitals were fluctuating wildly, even more so than just now.  I was concerned that you might be having a heart-attack, so I recorded your conversation as well…”

“You what?!”

“I considered transmitting it to Devon it see if he thought you were in danger; however, your conversation with Bonnie seemed to suggest that you were not.”

“Omigod.”

Bonnie appeared again.  “What’s going on? she questioned innocently.

Michael filled her in.  “Big Brother here recorded our activity last night between 10:23 and 10:46, to transmit to Devon.”

“Oh, KITT,” she moaned, “you didn’t.”

“I didn’t transmit it to Devon, no,” the computer responded with mechanical precision.  “I decided it was probably not necessary to wake him this time.  Instead, I logged it into the Foundation’s permanent storage for later retrieval, just in case Michael suffers another attack at a later date.  Did I do something wrong, Bonnie?”

“You sure did, KITT.”

“Erase it,” Michael commented quietly to Bonnie.

“The permanent record can’t be erased, you know that, Michael.”

“Yeah.  And someday Devon’s gonna be going back through old records, and he’s gonna find it, and he’s gonna have a good laugh.  Find a way to erase it.”

“I will find a way,” she promised.

“Thank you.  And teach that hunk of metal it’s not nice to spy on people.”

The synthesized human voice whined.  “What did I do wrong?  I don’t understand.  I thought Michael might be having a heart-attack.”

“Uh, no, KITT,” Bonnie corrected gently.  “Michael wasn’t having a heart-attack last night.  We were having, uh…”

“Fun,” Michael chimed in quickly.  “We were having fun last night, KITT.  And I wasn’t in danger, so, uh, you don’t have to record my vitals any more when I’m home safe in bed.  Okay?”

“Please define the word ‘fun’,” KITT persisted.  “I don’t fully understand it.”

Bonnie grinned at Michael.  “Yeah.  Go ahead.  Define what we were doing last night.”

Michael slouched against a glassy black fender.  “Uh, well,” he began profoundly, “uh, you know how great we feel when we turbo-boost?”

“Yes…”

“Well, that’s fun.  It’s like turbo-boosting.”

Bonnie queried sotto-voce:  “Sex is like turbo-boosting?”

Michael shrugged, “Well, yeah, sort of… I guess…”

The car had another question.  “What is ‘sex’?”

“Okay,” Michael mocked the lady.  “Go ahead.  Your turn.”

Bonnie strolled closer to Michael who was leaning against KITT's left front fender, arms folded.  Standing close in front of him, he own arms folded in a slightly defiant posture, her eyes travelled up his bare chest to his good-looking face, to pale blue eyes staring intently down at her.  She stared back in a soft but possessive manner, but it was the vehicle she spoke to.

“KITT, you don’t need to know about, uh, sex.  It’s got nothing to do with your programming.”

Michael watched her steadily.  “Well then, I think it’s time you enlarged his programming.”

“Michael…”

“It’s time he learned about the birds and the bees…” – he glanced back at the vehicle for confirmation – “right, partner?”

“If you say so, Michael – although I fail to see what birds and bees have to do with…”

“That’s all right, KITT, we’ll show you.”  He had unbuttoned her thin white cotton blouse, and was now unfastening the front hook of her bra.

“Michael…” she protested lamely, but didn’t try to stop him as he leaned forward and bent down to kiss the bared skin and nuzzle it.  Instead, she slid both hands into his hair.  A moan of excitement rumbled in his throat.

A flood of adrenalin washed over her, as she felt a surge of warmth and wetness and swelling between her thighs that his touch always ignited.  She loved it, but still protested, if somewhat weakly, “You’re just going to teach him to be a voyeur.  I’m not going to make out while he watches.”

Michael’s lips were exploring her cleavage, her throat, her face.  “Mm,” he purred, “he’s just a machine.”

“Hah – that’s the understatement of the week.”

“C’mon, let’s do something exciting… daring…” Michel wheedled, caught up in his exploration.

“Michael, you’re obscene.”

“I know it.”  Abruptly Michael pulled back – just an inch – leaned his forearms on her shoulders, and stared into her eyes hypnotically.  “And you love it.”

She felt the coolness of his saliva drying on her skin, but protested anyway, “I have to put the groceries away – in this heat…”

“Forget about the groceries.”  His gaze pierced her.  “Madame, how would you like to experience the sensations of a lifetime:  making love in your very own love-machine?”

“What – in KITT?”

A wicked grin.  “Mm hmm.”

Lazily she pulled away, answering his grin, as she insisted, “Groceries first – then love machine.”

“Well, in that case, milady, I will assist you in that endeavor, and we will get the groceries put away in record time.”

. . . . .

 _to be continued someday_ …


End file.
